have good judgment—employ this as you think best for the poor man: I have money, but no time, to give."
And what time, has a New-York merchant, who is making his thousands and tens of thousands, engrossed as he is with projects and calculations, and beset by the hopes and fears that accompany the accumulation of riches, and their possible loss—what time has he for the claims of human brotherhood?—what time to obey the injunction, "Bear ye one another's burdens?"—what time to imitate his Divine Master in going about doing good?—what time to seek the lost, raise the fallen, strengthen the weak, among his brethren—the children of one Father—travellers to one home? He may find time for a passing alms, but for protection, for advice, for patient sympathy, for those effective charities that his knowledge, station, and influence put within his power, he has no time. For what consideration does he cede this irredeemable treasure, time? And when conscience shall ask, "When thou wert conceiving schemes of unlimited wealth, examining invoices, and counting gains, where was thy brother?" will he not wish to have been the rich poor man who, in the name of Jesus, stretched forth his hand to that neglected brother?
When Aikin returned to the steps, he communicated the merchant's bounty to the stranger, and added, "If you will get on to my cart, and go to my house, my wife and I will try to make you comfortable for the present, and look out for employment for you against you get your strength."
The stranger could not speak. His face, as he
